Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Repulsive regret.

Having moved on, I thought the selfish brat of the ex, as the last one shall henceforth be known, would have gone on with his life without a care in the world save for the usual bemoaning of how stupid the world is and the alleged idiots at his work place in particular. Sleep, Self, Work with the occasional Sex thrown in (on his terms) really defined his life. I was wrong.

Apparently Brat was emo the other day, posted some msg on his Facebook stating that he 'was still in love with (you)'. Got a semi excited message from a mutual friend, who meant well I'm sure, God bless her soul, alerting me to the same and proclaiming that she thought he, the Brat, was referring to me. Like I said, I'm sure she meant well knowing how much angst the tumultous relationship and subsequent breakup caused me.

Not that it mattered, he's history and there's very much someone special in the picture now. ^^. But I did message him a friendly message, enquiring which of his paltry past loves he was pining for once again in keeping up with his self-requested wish that we continued to remain friends after the breakup because 'I was a very nice person'. A masquerade that was wearing thin as a result of his idiocy, propensity to block me on whatsapp for no reason whatsoever and generally treat me in a manner you would not treat an acquaintance, let alone a friend.

His reply as usual was retarded. Reticient, bordering on the insolent. A short, curt 'Y u curious?' followed by a dismissive 'No.' and a 'Aiya anyway none of your concern la.' So when I replied with a short terse message that basically went yes it was none of my business but friends just talk in general and if he was going to be a jackass, he could take his so called request for friendship and screw it. That he'd always be single if he wasn't going to change and start thinking about his future partner for a change. And if he still pined for this lover of his, he should go for him but not ever find another as a substitute.

I was rewarded with a single no. 'Nobody no substitute.' And 5 mins later, because often when we were together getting a coherent, non-one word reply from him was often like winning the lottery, he asked 'So wad if I say is you?'. I wanted this sickening man to be honest with his feelings, to say what he could post on facebook but would never be honest about, so I replied 'Dun say wad if, say it if it is and I will tell you'. Fully intending to tell him when he did, that it was too little too late, I'd moved on, found someone who truly appreciated me and that he should seriously think about the other party and not just himself in a relationship.

Of course, I never got to say all that because he inexplicably (well perhaps not surprising thus far given his retarded attitude and behaviour) blocked me that very next minute after that single reply I sent. Which of course cheesed me off no end. I've moved on sure. But seriously wtf?? Such rude, recalcitrant and totally reprehensible conduct is simply mind boggling. And it annoyed me for at least 1/2 a day while on my holiday. Unforgivable.

What do u say to someone too rude to reply, too reluctant to be honest to his own feelings, too ready to give excuses, too random to analyse, too reticient to care, too rigged to lie and ultimately too repulsive to bear?

Nothing. And so I won't.

My only regret now is having wasted 4 months of my life, money, sweat and tears on this repulsive, gutless man who can't even be honest with his feelings and blames everyone but himself, and not moving on earlier. I know I've said before anger is an excellent purgative but a poor restorative. But believe me, right now, purging this Brat out of my life has never felt better.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Rotten to the Core

You weren't very promising to begin with.

Spiky on the outside, hard, unyielding, forbidding.With just the faintest hint of the fragrance within.
A heady, intoxicating mix, at once overpowering yet fragrant. The allure of the flesh therein.
So I tore my flesh from rending that skin, bloodied my hands on those treacherous spikes.
Just because I believed there was something worth the pain within.

Then delving deep inside, through the layers of spike, I saw at last the sought for sight.
Golden, yellow, creamy delight.
But the flesh was more bitter than sweet. It even made me weep.
Yet still I ate, confident that sweeter flesh did await.
But the seed I saw, was black and hollow to the core.

For you repaid trust with deceit, loyalty with disdain, support with scorn.
And I shall never partake of such fruits again.

Sunday, November 13, 2011


"Na" he said. Pushing a large black Mont Blanc paper bag at me without so much as the de riguer niceties. He was almost an hour late, no apologies, no explanations. But this was his SOP, the man I'd dated, the one who proposed and the face I'd addressed as 'Dear' for slightly over 4 months.

An impassive countenance that masked unfathomable thoughts. A face alien in its familiarity.

"Where you wanna go?" he quipped. "Weren't you supposed to have made plans?" I queried, that sinking feeling that often came hard on the heels of one of the many, many lows in our relationship setting in. He had none. "Let's go Orchard." came the monologue. And that was that. It'd always been the case for most of our relationship, him wanting to do something, eat something, watch something at his time, his convenience and of his liking. Inexplicably, I caved most of the time. At the risk of sounding like a corny old romantic, such is the power of love. No other logical reason to explain why an otherwise perfectly rational person (i.e. me) would not have thrown a bitch fit or let him have it as some of the previous ex-es (alas) experienced when they crossed the line.

Tonight was scant difference despite the change in status of the relationship. Apart from the choice of cuisine, everything went according to (his) plan. Dinner venue, dishes ordered, aimless, futile window shopping. Right down to his clockwork smoke breaks. I hated it. Yet I remained an obedient, silent follower to the imposed routine. With nary a thought of protest, a prisoner of my basest, most subliminal emotions. Emotions palpable in intensity, impossible to elucidate yet impossible to ignore. While the seat of reason and thought cries out stridently to abort, reject and terminate. Cries lost in the maelstrom of turbulent sorrow.

While he was at the gents, I sneaked a peak. At the mini complimentary gift card that inevitably accompanies such gifts. "Dear XX" it began.

"Happy Birthday & Best Wishes.

A cold clinical message in small neat italicized handwriting I always found so at odds with his rough, unpolished even halting manner of speech. No 'love YY', no hint of warmth in that greeting, not even a short explanation or thank you message for the 4 months that had flowed past. The message would have fit right in with the perfunctory well wishes one proffers to a superior, albeit an unpopular one.

My heart sank. But why should it? Why expect anything more from a lover turned stranger who had so flippantly cast aside what he once strenuously declared he'd hold on to? Why remain imprisoned by feelings that would be neither acknowledged nor reciprocated? So many questions, so few answers.

Though this much I know, the physical attraction and desire remains strong. That familiar set of his jaw, the boyish visage, the prominent pecs, the swell of his arms, the soft mound of his slight paunch, the shape of his ass, his swagger and smell all couple to form a heady, irresistible cocktail of desire and deep-seated longing. To hug and to hold. Which I guess is not helping the extraction from this emotional quagmire.

I know it's time to move on. I am desperately willing myself to. I know I deserve better. No need for the cries of the many well-wishing friends to reiterate what I already know. Though I am thankful for their support. But knowing and being able to do so are two very different things indeed. Though that is certainly no excuse. Anger may be harnessed in the process, to facilitate a speedy extraction from this quagmire.

But experience has taught this. Anger is an excellent purgative but a poor restorative. The medicine should not kill the patient. I have cause to be angry, I certainly was angry. But anger will not be the salve to soothe the wounds in the long run. I know I have to move on. It's just a matter of finding the strength and right medicine to do so.

A friend once said, the best way to get over a man is to get under another one. Now if only things were that easy.. heh.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Not. - Navi's Admonishment

Blame not the foul north winds,
for the rank stench of decay and complacency .

Look not to the sands of time,
for succor in your quest for redemption.

Shake not your fist at the barren heavens,
for its callous contempt for your cries of refreshment.

Cling not to finely wrought metal for comfort,
Cool to touch yet quick to burn.

Perceive instead the rot within,
the impatience, insensitivity, idiocy.
The face painted ogre you bedeck in finery.
The one you prostrate before in abject adoration.

And rouse,
from this reverie you so obstinately cling to.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

SMD. 'K?

The evolution of a failed relationship - in three Letters.

Sell me Dreams;

Shake me Dizzy;

Suck my Dick;

Suck me Dry; then

See me Die.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Lies of the sky.

Do not lie,
when you talk of things that fly,
And jewels in the sky.

For in my mind's eye,
all I see are men that squirm beneath pewtered wings of vacuous glory,
And stagger with vapid smiles and fevered brows.

To where they do not know,
only to find what they do not seek.
As the world shudders with every step we take.

Monday, June 27, 2011


I love your honesty, when you look at me with eyes that glow like liquid onyx, the purse of your lips tight and unyielding. The words unspoken, yet elucidated in every shiver you make, the nonchalant puffs you take.

I muse over your quizzical regard, the cock of your head. The remarks you make and the punishing speed of your gait. I ponder, dissect, dissemble, reconstruct every statement you make. To fathom your thoughts and the ticks that make you tock. Till I hear your raucous laugh and see your impish face.

I love the warm flush of your face, the rough crush of your embrace. Wreathed in smoky musk, your gentle probes, tentative, like in a daze.

I like that you will spare this post nary a thought. Perhaps grace it with a little snort. Like ballast to my heady helium, the Sun to Icarus. For I have already fallen, fallen for you.

Friday, May 27, 2011


It used to be a good place to work. Friendly environment, good hours, decent work, shitty pay but hey something has to give and we were fully apprised of the fact. Comfortable, auto-cruise mode and you can understand why some people entered and stayed with a view towards retirement in the firm. I was even guilty of that once. Complacent and comfortable with the pace of things.

But times have changed, competition has picked up and while others are adapting and moving with the times, we seem to be stuck in a rut. Things have deteriorated slowly but steadily over the past couple of years. The laissez-faire attitude, lack of a clearly defined work structure and nelsonian blindness to changes, things which had initially appeared to be strengths of sorts, became afflictions. The absolute lack of system, the dearth of direction, the absence of channels of feedback, the wholly arbitrary and autocratic decision making all coupled to form a debilitating malaise emblematic of everything wrong with the department.

This in turn affected the work coming in, the quantity, scope and complexity of which began its inexorable decline. As one person noted aptly, the kind of work I'm getting and doing these days is sheer junk compared to what I used to be doing when I first started. Add the mind boggling attitude of senior management (i.e. those that mattered) towards the bread and butter areas of litigation, the lack of appreciation and transparency as well as an alarming tendency to ignore and address the problems on the ground, and you had a systemic failure of the system. If the current status of things could be regarded as a system that is.

The groundswell of discontent has hit the roof. What started out as a trickle, the first couple of resignations tendered has now triggered a tide. 6 in the span of 3 months with more to come. And soon pretty much the entire batch of associates will be gone in the next few months. The scariest thing is none of the problems have been addressed, not a single meeting convened, no damage control. All you see are a lot of worried faces, general denial and morale amongst those without plans dropping to an all time low.

You know you have a problem when all your associates are unhappy and are resigning en-masse in the span of less than 5 months. It's even worse when the resignations are not engineered for a walkout to a single firm but carefully considered decisions made to move to various places, united only by the collective conviction of the need to move and to move now. The total inaction and denial of the senior management based in no small part on a very myopic outlook of personnel replacement premised on replacing the seniors with cheap inexperienced trainees is stunning in its stupidity.

No one wants to be on a sinking ship. And right now that is certainly the sentiment on the ground. I'm glad I made the choice, for the path from now while harder, shall inevitably be more rewarding, more personally satisfying with a clear path for career progression. As for them, if nothing is done, they will find themselves with a dead department left to run very soon.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Lying with Liars

I remember that night.
As we lay in bed and you laid your head on my shoulder.
When I said the fault lies with none and that you should lay your cares on me.
I lied.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Of boobs and butts.

I love my post holiday leave day. Ostensibly taken because I need a day after a nice holiday to adapt and adjust my mindset back to the rigours of work. At least that's what I tell everyone. It's better than saying I'm lazy and want an extra day off to do anything but work. Which may include running my own personal errands I'd normally not get round to doing, more pampering, aimless slacking or other recreational activities like makan and movies. No contemplative meditation on the inescapable work that lies waiting, no zen like peace that wells up from within at the prospect of the week ahead. Definitely nothing work related. I'm almost religious in my observation of the post holiday leave day ritual.

It makes me feel good knowing I have an extra day to muck around and 'adapt', to do anything but work, while friends bemoan the drudgery of having to work the following day at the end of a holiday. I just beam and make all the right comforting sounds. Yes I'm a little bitch. But I honestly commiserate with them. That's why I take my post holiday leave cause I know exactly how it feels. Never mind that it costs me an extra day of leave or that more work may await or even that I do anything but 'acclimatise' myself for work. Balance is all important.

Today is one such day. Crammed pack with a plethora of activities since I'm not exactly in the nua at home mood and I needed to get out of the house anyway. Decided to go for my monthly grooming session at Browhaus even though my usual therapist was on leave. The brows were becoming a veritable mess of not quite Amazonian proportions but somewhat close. Some men may be proud of their bushy unkempt brows as a sign of their purported virility but really it's as sexy as that tuft of armpit hair you spotted in secondary (insert relevant educational institute) when mrs x raised her arm while scrawling equations on the board. If you like the caveman look, good for you.

I was hoping I would get a decent therapist. But thanks to my ever rotten luck, I was assigned tua neh bu. The same therapist who butchered my brows three months ago and left me with a lopsided brow landscape that had me weeping in front of the mirror for weeks. Alright I jest about the last. But tua neh bu butchered my brows. And here I was stuck with her. As you can guess, tua neh bu was more than amply endowed. She possesses an authoritative pair of gigantic boobs which seem to possess a life of their own. I use the term authoritative because her boobs have a commanding presence that demand your attention no matter how hard you try to ignore them. It's also a bit hard to ignore them since they are 1.) in your face and 2.) form 20% of the said individual.

Before I continue let me say I have nothing against our amply endowed friends of the fairer sex. Since you have been blessed with such gigantic jugs, don't be afraid to flaunt them. Lots of straight men will thank you for that. If not directly then perhaps warmly in their thoughts with some Kleenex. It's a tiny bit disconcerting though when you're trapped in a reclined seat and have nowhere to escape the presence of those ever commanding jugs. For me at least.

So it was that I was reclining in the seat when tua neh bu asked in Chinese how I wanted my brows to be done. She was beside my face, her jugs closer still. "You want it higher? Or just maintain the shape?" I couldn't tell who/what was speaking, the boobs or the bu( woman). The jugs quivering with a life of their own behind the barely restraining apron. Melons was all that came to mind. Recollecting with horror the last time I accepted her suggestion to 'improve the angle', I replied "Just 修理." in what I hoped was a firm voice, addressing the voice beyond the jugs while pointedly ignoring the mega mammaries. "You sure? I can improve it further though your natural shape is nice" the weapons of mass destruction jiggled, dangerously close. That childhood memory of reading about a man in US who sued Hooters for causing damage to his eyes after a waitress slammed her massive jugs into his face emerged unbidden from some forgotten recess of the mind where irrelevant facts are often stored. 'They felt like two slabs of concrete smashing into my face' I recalled the man recounting his harrowing experience with the WMDs.

"No need. Thanks." I replied. "Ok" came the answer. The mammaries quivered ominously and I hastily shut my eyes to escape further attention and commence the operation. Thankfully the touchup was fine, I guess the chance for butchered brows is greatly reduced when clearer parameters like " trim the grass at the edge and no do not make crop circles in the garden" is given. Funny how different parts of the anatomy and the size thereof can illicit such primal feelings and reactions. If gigantic mammaries can evoke such a response from a gay guy, you can only imagine the kind of impact they'd have on straight guys especially boob lovers. Of course the kind of reaction would be very different from quiet appreciation to unbridled lust.

Speaking of which I've never really understood the dual choice system imposed by straight guys. I'm talking about the often brandished ' Are you a boob or butt kind of guy?'. Surely in the simple male's world of attractive body parts, there's more choices to pick from than the elevated portions of a person's anatomy at different ends? How about I'm a face person? Personally I feel that's the most important part. Who cares if a person has a perky ass and gorgeous pecs if he has a mug that looks like a lorry reversed over a couple of times? From a purely superficial perspective of course. But we can argue about this till the cows come home and still not have a universally acceptable answer. To which I always say, whatever rocks your socks.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


Sometimes I sit and stare and wonder why you care.
About the little trifles and idiocies you feel you bear.
Then I remember you are you and I am me.
That the things we hear while same, may differently wear.
And that really I shouldn't care.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011


Things have been moving along at breakneck speed these past couple of weeks. Some not as fast as I would have liked, others a blazing blur of activities and snappy (but thought out) decisions. Being able to get a breather, sit back and reflect is a pleasant change.

Got round to doing Lasik at long last. Haha all in one day in fact. I figured it'd be a nice fresh, almost celebratory start to a new era. A hasty yet well planned decision (all 10 mins of it) taken after receiving the excellent check up results. No unwelcome gifts from that creep of a toad.

An end to all that mind boggling drama and ridiculous antics from the psychotic creep. It felt like a very prolonged and painful version of the Bad Sex episode, just more ridiculous. The kind of drama and rubbish you see in your average chinese/ korean drama. I never in my wildest nightmares imagined that I'd be stuck in one. Who would have known anyone could be that unstable, that delusional and criminal minded for so long? I probably sent him to jail. But I have no regrets, he was unrepentant and psychotic to the very end.

Unfortunately, a couple of friends also broke up during this period of time and my heart (or what's left of it that I can spare) goes out to them. Thankfully, their breakups were nowhere as drama-filled or ridiculous as mine. Good things happened too, a dear friend finally got attached at long last, grats jjulesz babe. :P

For now, just gonna focus on the things which matter to me. Enjoy the company of friends, do the things I like and yes, live life like I love it.

"If I said I want your body now
Would you hold it against me

Cause you feel like paradise
And I need a vacation tonight
So if I said I want your body now
Would you hold it against me.."

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Primordial feelings

Feelings. Because the basest, unrationalised ones are often truest.

I hate the smell of rain on hot asphalt. The warm dusty musk of wet earth released mingling with the stench of hot tar. The barely perceptible little oodles of steam that rise as the rain slaps the pockmarked road. A noxious assault on the senses.

I detest cowards who lie because they have no sense of self. Liars who lie as if breathing and for whom deception is a way of life. Words rendered meaningless by virtue of the fact that the liar neither means what he says nor speaks the truth at all. The only thing worse than a liar is a stupid liar.

I abhor the way you cry. Your crumpled face, noh like mask with rivulets of tears as you wring your hands and weep. Reeking of sweat and the stench of your breath. The way you seek to justify the unjustifiable, your horrendous volatility, the madness that vacillates from simpering unsought for servitude to acrimonious accusations and unfettered drama. So weak, so self-serving, so delusional. So fucking you.

I like the feel of soft satin. The silky smooth caress of light sheets on the bed. To snuggle under the covers as the storm rages outside. The crashing thunder and snaking tongues of lightning, accompaniment to the din of the falling rain. A lulling symphony of sorts.

I appreciate my friends. The warmth, concern, camaraderie and support. The company of friends and the shared experiences, the joys of interaction and sharing the burdens of problems a source of strength and pride. Poor is the man without friends.

I love the simple things in life and its little comforts. The hedonistic allure of carnal comforts, good food, quite a bit of self pampering. The thrill from a sudden but highly satisfactory purchase. Abstinence is unnecessary deprivation. Desire tempered by moderation but always present.

I lust for the warmth of another guy's embrace. The intimacy afforded from curling up beside another, hot, hard and lean. Passionate kisses and frenzied foreplay. Skin on skin, entwined in sweaty embrace till the climatic finish.

Sometimes, I long for the company of another man. Compatible, communicative and one I'm comfortable with. To love, hold and fuck ( not necessarily in that order) Someone I'd not regret or dread at the end of the day. Now is that so hard...?

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Fast forward

Looking back at the most recent posts, I realized that they've largely either been the depressive emo kind or invariably start off along the lines of "I haven't blogged for so long but here's what's happened so far". The emo depressive posts, on hindsight, are a little too emo for my liking; painting the picture of an emotionally challenged individual beset by many unhappy issues. Though that was how I truly felt then. And it was just many problems caused by a single individual. Who is no longer in a position to give any more problems or make my life miserable. Amazing how the simplest and most efficient solution can sometimes be the hardest to make. Even if it's there, screaming at you in the face.

Sometimes you scream back in the hope that it'll shut up when really the solution (so,sometimes and after due consideration) is to embrace it. Treating the problems often work though if it's something more pervasive and entrenched, removing the tumor is the only solution. But I digress. No qualms about using the same old phrase for the simple reason that it's true. A little uncreative perhaps but no one dies from a lack of original prose. From boredom perhaps. But I doubt reading the same line for three consecutive posts is going to send anyone into cardiac arrest. And thus I begin

I havent blogged for a while, for which i make no apologies, and yes loads has happened since. Dirty men getting dirtier, the rise and fall of a tumultuous relationship, forging of greater bonds with friends(some people have a rubber definition of such, and they are usually the saddest sort of sods around), some very unwanted drama and the contrast between friends who are there for you and "friends" who are volatile and seem to think the only way to get your attention is to make your life miserable.

If anything these past few months have reiterated the deeply held notion that talk is cheap if not backed up by sincerity and the basic tenet of honesty. Incidental to this was the mild sense of disbelief that the notion that something should never be said and once said, the necessary consequences must be paid, was alien to some. Just as baffling if not more so was the discovery that for some lying was Not meant to simply deceive but a necessary activity to 'allay and comfort' others while hopefully magically resolving all problems. You know you have a serious serious problem when the other half has no problems lying through his/her teeth because he genuinely thinks that's the best for you and the relationship. Bullocks.

Which kind of reminds me of that oldies song with the refrain that goes "..tell me lies tell me sweet little lies baby baby tell me lies.." Anyone in his/her right frame of mind who wants to be lied to should be sent to the asylum. I can understand the classic " do I look fat in this?" dilemma. But anything else is clearly unacceptable. At the end of the day, I've come to realize that it is ESSENTIAL that you be on the same page with your partner on the fundamental issues which to me includes trust and honesty. It may not be SUFFICIENT to keep a relationship going but it is essential. A splendid house built on sand collapses sooner or later. And I wish I could say ours was splendid. It was great at the good times, a semi-d at serangoon gardens perhaps. Certainly not a nassim road mansion. But that's life and the experiences are not something I regret. As David often stoically puts it, cest la vie.

Enjoying life with friends and doing the things I've always enjoyed is a refreshing change and I would say I've been able to move on relatively quickly. Even chatting with an affable dude I'd lost touch with since last year but taking things slow. The goal may be the destination but the fun's all in the journey:)

In other news been ktving quite a fair bit thanks to you know who you peeps are(hugggz) and trying ( but failing haha) to brush up on my Chinese for the cheena songs in the process. Current FOTM( flavor of the month:)) include songs by the hottie Andy hui and Faye Wong :) Haven't neglected the English hits though, current favorite on repeat on the playlist is raunchy Rihanna's S&M. Fantastic MTV to boot haha Rihanna is my goddess...right after Gaga :)

"I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I dont care I like the smell of it. Stick and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me. " ;)

And no I'm not into S&M but I loveeee this song!
Nananana come on!;)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Whisper from the Abyss.

I stare ahead, into the darkness and the Abyss stares back at me. As my world slowly crumbles around me. The unescapable sounds of disintegration, my only company.